You'll Be The Death Of Me
by Anlynne
Summary: Hermione has two secrets, and they won't stay secret for long.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Like Magnets

His lips were soft. They warmed her from the inside out, from her heart to her fingertips, and toes. He pressed himself harder on her. She felt the large stones of the wall press into her back, and her hair tug as she tried to return the furious kisses digging her nails into his shoulders. She simply couldn't get close enough.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prefect, the blonde haired, sneering, arrogant pureblood Hermione Granger hated from their first year in Hogwarts until her third year. Things changed then. Dramatically. One day she smacked him for the horrible things he said about their Care of Magical Creatures professor, and her friend, Hagrid. Somehow things changed then. His respect for her grew. She remembered the night he came up to her before she joined her friends Harry, and Ron in the common room. He pulled her aside, and told her, "you really are something, Granger. A pain in the arse, a know-it-all, a bookroom, a beaver, but you have guts. I could cause you a lot of trouble... But I won't. No one has dared stand up to me, especially some girl..." He confided in her telling him about his wishes for the future, about his family, their hatred, his suspicions, and somehow they became friends.

It was unlikely. Nothing like that was supposed to happen. They were enemies, and enemies they would remain until they died. Then why were they snogging behind the One Eyed Witch statue? Because they couldn't help themselves. They were drawn to each other like two magnets. Why? That was a story that took place in a different year.

The fourth year Draco saw her differently. When she came into the Great Hall arm-in-arm with the famous Bulgarian Quidditch player Victor Krum, he became jealous. He pestered her for six weeks until he finally pushed her behind the statue they were now hidden, and kissed her. He was rough, and demanding, and she fought back. It was a fight like any Wizarding duel, except their wands were in their back pockets, and they fought with their tongues, and they were much closer than they should've been.

She pushed his shoulders away gasping for the air she'd been lacking. "Stop... We have to go, we have classes tomorrow."

He groaned. "Fine. You'll be here tomorrow." It wasn't a question, a statement, a fact.

"Yes, I'll be here."

He backed away, and she pushed away from the wall, feeling a slight head rush.

"You okay," he asked concerned his hand constricting her arm as though she would keel over.

"I think..." Hermione held her head until it slowly passed.

"That's flattering, Hermione - that I take your breath away."

"Ha ha."

"Will you be okay? Or do I have to walk you to your floor?"

"I'll be okay," she said, now with conviction.

That was the biggest verity of her relationship with Draco. No one knew about them. Not even their closest friends, not even Harry, and Ron. Especially not them. Just like she was enemies with him, so were they. She didn't see a good enough reason to permanently damage her friendships with them, because the relationship she had with Draco was nothing special. They both recognized that they could never be. She was a muggleborn, and he was a pureblood with a prejudice family. They would surely die if anyone found out, and they knew it would be her. They both knew a war was coming. They both knew that they would have to fight against each other. It was something they didn't talk about it, it was taboo. They wouldn't think about what would happen if they faced each other. Would they kill?

"Are you sure," he asked again.

"Go on, Draco. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you," he kissed her cheek, and disappeared behind the statue.

She waited patiently until he should have been several corridors down. That was another truth to them. They were overly careful at not being caught together, at least not without the sneers, and insults that go with it.

Hermione counted to a hundred in her head, and then went along too. It was a good thing that they were both Prefects. They both had badges to say that they were merely looking out for younger students roaming the halls. It was the perfect excuse.

Her soft footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, and she could swear that the suit of amours that lined each of them were watching her. Maybe it was just the flickering fire in the brackets, but it almost looked like they were moving. She didn't like the night. There were too many ways of taking a logical explanation for something, and spinning it out of control.

By the fourth staircase she stopped at the bottom letting herself drop on the ground. Her breath came out in wheezes. She held her tightened chest as her lungs caught up with her. It was happening too often lately. This weird... Feeling. Like she was losing her energy. She didn't understand it at first, and she didn't understand it then. She was healthy in every way possible, there was no cause for her to feel the way she was. If it was a cold, or something so mundane she would have felt the other effects, a sore throat, a headache, something besides what she was. Heart pains, loss of energy, vertigo, all of which she felt as she forced herself to stand. If she was any later to her common room then her Prefect badge, and its rights would be negligible.

It wouldn't have been a bid deal to go to Madam Promfrey to see what was wrong with her. Madam Promfrey could solve anything, she was an amazing Healer, but it wasn't worth it. Harry, and Ron would have to know what the matter was. They would dig, and hound until they got to the bottom of her sudden quietness. Being weak wasn't something she was used to. If she had to be so, if it was unavoidable then she would be the only one to know. Of course her common sense deviated that. There were no secrets in Hogwarts. The exception to that rule was her relationship with one particular Slytherin, but they themselves broke all the rules. She smiled slightly at that thought.

Dragging her feet along she yawned the password to the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open revealing a scarlet, and gold common room filled with comfy couches, and chairs, and a dying fireplace. There were two staircases at each end of the room, one for the boys dormitory, and one for the girls. She went to the right, and entered her room. Five beds each with red curtains in a large circle around a iron heater. She heard Lavender's gurgled snore from her bed.

Hermione fell into her own pulling her wand out to close the curtain around her. She didn't bother to look at her Muggle clock, otherwise she would never sleep too alert of how little sleep she would have anyhow.

* * *

Pitching his Prefect badge over to the table beside his bed Draco pulled the green covers over himself. He grinned like a cat with a mouse thinking back over the past hour. Hermione had the softest lips, and skin ever known to man. She was sweet, but not overly so. She was strong, opinionated, and very right for him, but wrong in more ways than one that will in the end keep them away from each other.

It pained him to think of what was to come in their 7th year. Once they graduated they as a couple would no longer exist. He wouldn't be able to hold her, kiss her, tease, and infuriate her. All because of his family, his blood, the expectations placed on him. Because he was destined to become a Death Eater, to kill muggles, and muggleborns. He would be expected to kill Hermione when the second war began. That is if he crossed her, and he would make sure he didn't. If he even saw a glimpse of her he would run the opposite direction. He couldn't kill her, not now.

She was his sweet torture. Draco knew the risk he was taking with her. If he was punished for it it would matter little, but he couldn't risk her. For the first time in his life he cared more for someone else. It was an odd, unsettling feeling, and many times he thought of leaving her, but when he caught a glance of those chocolate eyes, that smile, he couldn't resist. She was his drug, he couldn't get enough. He was addicted to Hermione Granger, and it would damn him to hell to be sure. If it did, did it matter? Hermione was the closest heaven he would touch, especially in the oncoming years when he would commit more crimes than she would believe him capable of. At least, for a little while he would have his taste of a life sweeter than one he could never gain, or earn.

Draco peeked out from the silver curtains to the window beside him. In the distance was a bit of light. Soon he would have to drag himself down to breakfast. He would be tired, and irritable even when he would sleep late. Again, it didn't matter, it was worth it. For an hour he got to be with his angel.

A/N: This story is personal to me on a couple of levels, and I must ask that you please keep an open-mind for what will happen. I have debated greatly whether to write this plot at all, but I did. Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sweet Nothingness

Late... She was never late. Not once in her life. Even on her first official day at Hogwarts with fresh knowledge of the school, and the magical world she only read about in fairytales she wasn't late to her classes. She memorized the map in Hogwarts, A History. She was always early. It made a good impression.

_Great_, she thought bitterly, _Harry, and Ron will never let me live this down. _Under her breath she cursed her two best friends as she stuffed all of her books into her brown bag. She mouthed off each title in order to keep herself from cursing again, something she very rarely done, but that morning called for it. She knew she would oversleep, and she knew none of the other girls would wake her for they were always late, and occupied themselves. She cursed them as well feeling like she might as well do a thorough job of her unusual conduct. Though it occurred to her, she couldn't force herself to curse Draco. Last night was too good.

Hermione ran out of the girls dormitory to the common room, and out to the empty gray stone corridor. She kept running, checking her watch every five seconds, straightening her tie, smoothing out her robe. Her legs simply couldn't run fast enough. It was bad enough that running was the type of infraction that she took house points for. She was a Prefect, it was her duty, but out of fairness for the rule - all of which she took as seriously as a law - the next person to run she would act as if she didn't see it. That would even her morals out, wouldn't it?

Halfway down the hallway she felt something new. A pain, sharp as a knife lodged in her frantic heart. She stopped up short clutching her chest, this pain much worse than the lasts. It was all getting worse. She couldn't be having a heart attack. She was too young. What was it? What was wrong with her?

"Mudblood! What're you doing?"

She flinched at Draco's drawl. This was not the time to face him. Not when she felt her feet, and hands go numb. They had to keep up appearances in daytime, alone or not, this wasn't the time for him to be there, he would have to leave.

In another quick thought she wondered if it was a spell she didn't know of. Some kind of dark magic that she was unaware? Maybe she wasn't as healthy as she thought she was.

"I'm speaking to you, Granger!"

Hermione gasped as the invisible knife twisted. Her brain sloshed around, everything blurred. "Malfoy... Get Madam Promfrey."

He stopped in front of her bending his head low to inspect her face. "Hermione, are you sick?"

"Don't - " she started intending to warn him of using her given name, but she choked on her words overcome by a fresh wave of pain, and numbness. She reached out for the wall. She missed as her legs gave out. She fell to the hard stone floor lying in a heap at Draco's feet. Everything went dark, and she was engulfed in it. The pain was unnoticed in her state. It was sweet. Sweet nothingness.

* * *

Draco watched as she fell. He wanted to reach out to her - grab her - slow her pace to the floor down, but he was frozen, his brain trying to catch up to what he had seen. Hermione fainted. The strong, brilliant creature he had known for so long was now helpless at his feet.

He bent next to her, and with a shaky hand he felt for her pulse. It was slow. Too slow. It was something he knew that was usually too fast. Hermione had been acting strange, she was paler than him those days, dark lines under her eyes which were startlingly unfocused in class. It worried him, though he would never tell her that, he couldn't act like he was becoming attached to her. He told himself over, and over like a mantra that it would never work, because he was a pureblood, and she was muggleborn. His father would kill her, disown him, their classmates would hate them. They had their reputations to protect. What they were - whatever it was - it couldn't last.

"Hermione," he gasped. "Hermione... Are you all right? Answer me." Draco heard the hysteria under his voice that he begged not to tremble as his hands were doing. He felt her flushed cheeks that had been devoid of color for too long.

Swearing loudly he scooped her slim figure in his arms, her wild cinnamon hair falling over his arm. Hermione would have his head for what he was doing. He wasn't supposed to care, and he was willing to put every Galleon of the Malfoy fortune on the fact that she would want him to leave her there. It wasn't going to happen, he might as well wrench his heart out there if he left her in such a state. If he was caught he could simply say that he had a moment of insanity, that a spell had gone badly. People would have to believe that. No one would believe that the two of them would be something more than friends no matter how wrong they were.

Draco took her up several more staircases going down three long corridors to the infirmary. Unable to open the door he kicked it with his foot in form of a knock. He jostled Hermione gently attempting to get a better grip on her. He took careful note of her face, her lips slightly parted, beautiful as always, but still out of it.

The door opened, and a kind faced, but hasty woman stood there in a long white robe. "Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger! What happened. Come in, quickly now, set her over there. What happened, Mr. Malfoy?!"

Draco sat her on to the nearest bed situating the pillow better under her head. "She fainted."

"Were you dueling," she asked reproving from across the room. She was rummaging through her cabinet of different colored vials.

"No. She just... Fainted." He shrugged unable to understand it himself. Hermione Granger was not the type of witch to faint. Potter fainted more than her. He tried to stifle the chuckle at remembering his condition around Dementors, though he could hardly _not_ understand. They were horrid creatures that suck every good memory, every good thought, and every good feeling out of a person. He shuddered at his own feelings around them.

"Humph," she responded coming back with a light brown bottle carefully tipping her head up. "Make yourself useful, and pour this down her throat. _Gently_, Mr. Malfoy," she added.

He could have laughed at her. Like everyone in the school she had no idea of the relationship he had with the girl she was helping. If she did she would be needing the revival potion.

He opened her mouth further, and careful to not spill any he poured it in her throat. Some streamed out of the corners down to her neck soaking into her black robe, but most went down. When the last drop was gone, he hoped. _Please, Hermione, wake up._

* * *

Whatever was in her mouth, trickling down her throat it was strong. It burned her tongue, her throat, her nose. There was no taste in it, nothing except wet fire. Hermione coughed, and opened her eyes. Everything above her blurred in colors of white, but after several blinks they came into focus, Draco, and Madam Promfrey. She bit her tongue in anger.

It was ironic that the first thought she would have was the mistake Draco made. He should have left her there in the hallway. Eventually she would have woken, or someone would have found her, hopefully someone besides a Slytherin. A Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw would've stopped. On the other hand she was glad it was Draco. There was no doubt that anyone else would have told of her fainting.

She moaned sitting herself upright, Madam Promfrey's hands out ready to catch her. She kept from rolling her eyes at the foolishness. Despite the rush of blood to her head making her a bit dizzy there was no need to overreact that way. She felt better than before, the knife dissolved from her chest.

"Be careful there dear." She turned warily to Draco. "You can go on to class now, Mr. Malfoy. I have it from here."

He looked a little hesitant, and she widened her eyes at him begging him to go. If he refused to leave - something he should have done to begin with - Madam Promfrey would start wondering what secret he was withholding, unknowing that she was holding a secret too.

A moment late he turned walking out slamming the door behind him. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Madam Promfrey felt her forehead, checked the pulse in her wrist at which she clucked her tongue at. She exhaled audibly, and said, "I think it's stress Ms. Granger. I think you should take it easy. Rest here for the day."

"No," Hermione opposed quickly. "No, I'll go to my classes. I've missed so much already! How long was I out?"

"Not long dear, but that doesn't account for when Mr. Malfoy found you. Or did he? Did you two fight?"

"No... I didn't know he was even there," she lied smoothly. She knew he was there, but it was easy to lie about it when she barely remembered him. She remembered being late, and her chest hurting... The rest was hazy, like looking through a fog.

"I'm okay," she lied again.

Madam Promfrey huffed indignantly. "If you're _sure_, at least take this small piece of chocolate. Eat it on the way." Out of her pocket she took out a mountain of chocolate covered in crinkled paper. It was always her secondary cure for everything. Take a potion then eat chocolate. Hermione could hardly argue with that.

"Thank you," she said politely taking it. Quickly she hopped down from the bed, and rushed out into the corridor. She unwrapped it on her way taking big bites.

At the end of the corridor she was winded. Someone came out from behind a suit of amour clapping their hand over her mouth dragging her behind it. "Shhh," he said letting go of her mouth.

"Draco," she accused spinning on her heel to face him.

"That would be me. What did she say?"

She smirked at his worry. "Stress, that's all. She said I should rest, but I can't fall behind -"

"Typical, Granger. Predictable that your concern would fall first with your school work. You should've done what she said."

"I think you should take her advice again."

"What advice?"

"'You can go on to class now, Mr. Malfoy. I have it from here,'" she quoted the school Healer.

"Funny," he retorted.

She grinned, "thanks, I thought so too." She took the last bit of chocolate, and stuffed it into his open mouth that was no doubt about to tell her off. He gasped in surprise, and she ran off leaving him standing there.

"You'll pay for this, Granger," he yelled without a threat in his tone behind her.

"I'm looking forward to it, Malfoy," she called over her shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

One Way Or Another

It was hardly an hour later, and Hermione felt her heart beating faster, and faster against her rib cage. She bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep a passive expression. She couldn't let anyone know what she was feeling, or that anything was wrong. However, that wasn't the case. Everyone in Charms knew that something had to be wrong, because she didn't raise her arm once. She gained a few incredulous stares, including one from Professor Flitwick a stout man with a squeaky voice. Purposefully she focused on her notes. They weren't in her usual neat handwriting, they were scrawled, looking almost as bad as Ron's. She couldn't keep her hand from shaking. She bit her cheek harder.

"Ms. Granger?"

She raised her head regretfully. She had no idea what the question was. "Yes, sir?"

"Will you please answer my question?"

"I - I don't know, sir. What was the question?"

His face dropped. "Have you been paying attention? Are you sick?"

"I've been listening," she said ignoring the second question so she wouldn't have to lie. "Ummm... I can't..." She couldn't remember. What was the question? She had been listening to the lecture with rapt attention because it was the only thing that was keeping her focus off of the way her heart was twisting, the numbness.

"Perhaps you should go to the Infirmary -"

"No, sir, I just came from there... I'm okay."

Professor Flitwick was doubtful, but he directed whatever the question was at Dean Thomas. She inhaled a deep breath stopping at the squeeze of her organs.

"Hermione," Ron breathed in her ear, "are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Thanks, Ronald," she growled back, "I'm fine, please, stop asking."

It was the question of the month. If she was okay. Comments that she didn't look well. It was getting old. She deluded herself into thinking that no one was noticing it, but they were. She wouldn't be able to hide it for long, that she wasn't weak, so weak that she wasn't able to tell her two best friends about it. It was time that she got answers, and she raised her hand.

Professor Flitwick squeaked in happiness at the sight of her hand. "Yes! Ms. Granger!" Apparently he had asked another question.

"I'm sorry, sir, maybe I should go to the Infirmary. Do you mind?"

Looking chagrin he waved his hand, "yes, Ms. Granger, go ahead. Mr. Weasley will pass on the homework to you."

"Thank you, sir." She hurried from the room her head down letting her bushy hair hide her red face.

In the hallways she pushed up the sleeves of her robe. Her face wasn't just red with embarrassment she was truly hot. Sweat gathered at her hairline preparing to drip down her face. It was in the dead of winter, snow fell in a blizzard out the windows, and it was chilling inside, but it didn't register with her. The only way she knew the cold to be true in spite of the snow was the sweaters all the students were wearing. Ron had even stoop so low to wear the maroon Weasley sweater his mother made him, though he covered it up with his robe. She only knew because of the joke Harry made that morning at breakfast.

Hermione went inside the Infirmary, and immediately took off her robe. She placed a hand over her chest. She felt her heart. She felt it like there were no flesh, and bones blocking her way, every beat moved beneath her as if trying to knock her hand off. It hurt.

"Ms. Granger, back so soon? Lie down, I'll get some chocolate."

"No, please, Madam Promfrey, I don't want any." She lied on the bed the sweat now pouring off of her in sheets.

"I'm sure it'll make you feel better. Did you eat the piece I gave you?"

"Yes... I think it made it worse. I don't know."

"How long have you been feeling like this dear?"

"A month, or so. At first it was just a loss of energy, but then it got worse. My chest hurts, I go numb, I get dizzy. Today I'm hot. Something's wrong."

Madam Promfrey felt her forehead. "You're burning up, but it's not a fever..."

"So does that mean there's nothing wrong?"

"No. There is something wrong with your symptoms... Be still, I'm going to do some tests."

Hermione closed her eyes relaxing as Madam Promfrey waved her wand over her. Tears leaked out of the crinkles of her eyes as the pain intensified. Hermione felt the darkness. It pressed it on her. She let it wanting the pain to go away.

* * *

Goblets, plates, platters, forks, spoons, and other assorted mealtime instruments scraped, and moved over the plates on the four wooden tables in the Great Hall. Every student gathered to eat with their houses chattering, and eating. It was loud, and busy. Draco pretended to laugh at the mudblood jokes that passed around the Slytherin table, his two dumb, muscled mates that flanked him, Crabb, and Goyle laughed too hard, too slow.

Draco gave the Gryffindor table the slightest glance, something to barely be noticed. He scanned it in haste to find one certain girl among it, but Hermione wasn't there. Ron, and Harry sat with Seamus, Dean, and Neville discussing something animatedly. They didn't seem to find their missing friend disturbing in the least. Draco huffed in disgust, but then thought of earlier that day. Had she fainted again? It couldn't be anything too huge or else he would hear about it.

"I don't feel so good," he announced to his surrounding friends. "I'm going to the Infirmary. I'll see you all later."

"Think if you go there you'll get sicker," Blaise, a smarter mate of his, dark, and lanky warned. "That mudblood Granger is in there."

Draco stopped from pushing his chair in. So he was right. "She is? What happened?" He tried to make his voice sound indifferent.

"Don't know," he shrugged.

"I'll be sure to hold my breath. Don't want her germs to enter my lungs." He stalked away.

Once he was outside the large double doors he broke into a run. He ran up several staircases cursing loudly when he had to wait for one to move towards him in order to move to the next. He couldn't get there quick enough. He hoped that Blaise was wrong. If she was there for a second time, could it be because she came to her senses about resting? No, that couldn't be it, Hermione never came to her senses she was too damn stubborn.

Draco didn't pause a second outside of the Infirmary door. That's why he ran headlong into it. He reiterated the swear words he used before. The door wouldn't budge, but that wasn't right it was always open, it was never locked. He banged his fist on it, but no one answered.

"Madam Promfrey," he yelled. Still, no one answered. Something was wrong... What if some student had broken twenty bones by the Whomping Willow, or been transfigured into a flamingo with a chair leg in Transfiguration? He could be bleeding out of his ears by a wayward spell, and he could bleed to death right at the base of the door. They would find him in a pool of his own blood, because no one answered the damn door.

He grunted angrily, and sat beside it. It would have to open sometime, and when it did he would be there. Unfortunately, he waited late into the night. Professor McGonagall, the strict Transfiguration teacher with black hair streaked with gray found him.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Waiting for this door to open," he said bored out of his skull.

"The Infirmary is closed."

He stopped himself short of rolling his eyes, or remarking with one of the tons of sarcastic comments he was thinking. He rose a questioning brow at her instead. "Why?"

"I'm not permitted to say. You look fine, are you feeling well?"

He thought of lying. Stomach ache, headache, nausea, lots of ill-related matters floating in, and out of his thoughts as he tried to pick an appropriate one, one that would get him through the locked door. None were urgent enough, serious enough that he could get by with. He was a natural at persuasion like his father, but none of it worked on McGonagall, she wasn't fooled by many lies. That was very inconvenient.

"It's nothing that can't wait," he told her.

"Then go on to your common room. Don't go loitering the corridors."

Curtly he nodded. Too bad he couldn't bleed out of his ears on cue. That would make that wretched witch give him access.

Draco didn't realize how late it was until he got to his common room. Normally it was filled to the brim with students, but the green, and silver room in the dungeons, under the lake was completely empty, the fire died out. No one waited up for him, not that he was surprised. He plopped himself down into the comfiest chair to consider his position, the things he knew:

1. Hermione was sick.

2. She fainted, and he took her to the Infirmary.

3. Madam Promfrey insisted that it was stress.

4. The Infirmary is closed.

5. He was getting into it one way or another in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Uncommon

Madam Promfrey read over her notes, tapping the quill noiselessly against the clipboard. Her eyes roved over the paper nodding, and making sounds in the back of her throat. It was annoying. Hermione wished she would get to the point.

Hermione had to spend the entire night there, and now she was missing breakfast. All this was due to all the test Madam Promfrey had performed. She slept through the night as the tests continued. Madam Promfrey only stopped long enough to take notes before she would begin again. Hermione was tired, and she was the one that slept. Madam Promfrey looked alive, and... Scared?

"Please, Madam Promfrey," she begged, "what is it? You must know what's wrong by now."

"Ms. Granger... This is an uncommon illness. Not many know about it, not even most Healers."

Hermione was curious, but unsurprised. Madam Promfrey _would_ know about every illness, muggle, or wizard cause. "Go on, please," she prompted.

She sat wearily down on the bed beside her. "It's a muggle illness, and like I said, it's uncommon. It's called..." She breathed. "Dysautonomia."

"Dysautonomia," she whispered letting the odd word fall out of her mouth. "What is it?"

"In laymen terms the nervous system controls the body. It controls your heart rate, and blood pressure... Your heart works very hard to pull the blood through your body, it works harder for you. You lose feeling in your limbs because of it. There are many symptoms, Ms. Granger. From my research you have the type of Dysautonomia called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia."

Hermione nodded at all of the foreign words. "What's the cure?"

She casted her eyes down to the floor. "I'm sorry... There is no cure."

Panic filled her. "Is there something?"

"There are a few potions that can deplete the symptoms, but they won't go away. As you grow older they may fade, but... This illness doesn't."

"I'll always have it?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger. You will be able to lead somewhat of a normal life, you'll just have limitations."

She huffed dubiously. Somewhat of a life wasn't a life. How could she live a normal one when she was fainting all over the place? When she couldn't run? There had to be something, anything to make this better, to make it go away.

"Now... Drink plenty of water, lots of it, you'll dehydrate quickly. Don't stress, take hot baths, or showers. No caffeine. Come once a month for a blood test, because I must check your organs to see if they're in working order."

"My organs?"

"It's rare. Very, very rare, but according to my research some have had organ failure. No need to fret about it. It's very rare."

Hermione felt her eyes prickle, and soon tears were cascading down her cheeks. She shook her head. It wasn't true. None of that was. She was perfectly healthy. Nothing like this could happen to her. She wasn't one to get sick, she hardly got the common cold! There had to be some mistake. In defiance she threw the thin sheet off of her, and ran towards the door.

"Ms. Granger!" Madam Promfrey stood, but it was too late Hermione didn't hear her.

She wrenched open the door, and started to run down the empty hallway, her bare feet not chilled by the cold floor. She continued to feel like she was running a temperature when she wasn't. Everything odd about her the last month would continue.

She didn't make it down to the corner until dizziness swept her up, and she fell.

* * *

Hermione was absent at breakfast. Potter, and Weasley even looked worried. Weasley pushed his food around with his fork staring glumly at it as though it had offended him personal. Potter wasn't eating at all, his plate empty. His mouth was moving so insufficiently that unless someone was looking very closely they wouldn't have caught it. Obviously he was mouthing comforting words to his mate.

Draco shook his head, and looked away. He didn't care about Potter, or the Weasel. He cared about Hermione. He made a promise himself last night that he would get into that Infirmary one way, or another. He shoved his full plate away from him. He hadn't taken a bite since he came in, and saw that she wasn't there. It was time that he make good on that promise.

"Where're you going," Crabb gruffed as Draco stood.

"Nowhere... I have someplace to go. Stay here, and eat."

Crabb nodded, and did as he said, like a good sidekick with no brain. He shoveled in more of his food not asking any questions. One of the few good things about him.

Like yesterday when he exited out of the doors he ran. Ran, and didn't stop. Not even at the door he half-expected to be locked. He was prepared to blast it away, but he opened it, and rushed right on through holding the knob to steady himself.

Immediately he searched the beds coming to the one nearest to him, the one he placed her in. "Her - Granger," he corrected sharply remembering that it was possible they weren't alone.

"Hey," she said hazily her brows pulling together like she was studying a problem that she couldn't solve. That couldn't be right, she could solve anything.

"Granger, are you all right?" It wasn't something he would normally say in daylight. Normally he wouldn't care. No, that wasn't true, he always cared, but he acted his part well, and pretended not to. She however, amazingly didn't notice this slip. He glimpsed around the room for Madam Promfrey. She came over from the cabinet hovering over her desk. She looked solemn.

"I'm sorry," Hermione smiled kindly. "Who are you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, and saw that hers were dazed in confusion. It was surreal to see that confusion, because she was never confused. She knew everything. It was a trait of hers that he had eventually come to love above finding it irritating. "You know who I am."

"Sorry, I don't."

"I'm Draco Malfoy. Slytherin Prefect. Your..." He didn't say it. It wasn't just because another person was within hearing range of their conversation, but because they never used those terms with each other. He never once called himself her boyfriend, and she never regarded herself as his girlfriend. It wasn't that they more or less were. Using those titles put invisible binds on them. It would only make it harder for them to leave when needed. To face each other in war when the time came.

"I don't remember you," she stated easily.

"Madam Promfrey," he called tearing his eyes away from her to the Healer.

She shook her head sadly coming to stand beside him. "It's temporary, Mr. Malfoy. Sometimes this happens, the patient forgets."

"Forgets," he spat.

She ignored his behavior, and even the reaction he was having towards someone he hated. "She's sick... Come, and sit down, I'll explain it to you..." Catching his own confusion she added, "I know you care for her, otherwise you wouldn't have brought her to me. Don't worry I won't tell, but perhaps you should know what's wrong with your friend. Sit, please."

A/N: This illness is real. I did not make it up. Any questions, or concerns feel free to message me, I'll be happy to answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Say Something

The silence was unbearable. Hermione would go crazy if Draco didn't say something soon. He sat beside her bed in a rickety wooden chair his face buried in his hands. He looked so much older than he was at that moment. He was too young to be looking that way. If his hair wasn't already near white she would expect to see streaks of old age in it.

Madam Promfrey was at her desk bent over a stack of papers, and four inch thick books. She was doing every bit of research of the odd illness as she could. Every once in a while Hermione would hear pages being shuffled around, flipped, and once a tear which made her cringe. She told her that she had forgotten who she, and Draco was. Hermione didn't remember that bit. She didn't remember falling asleep, or waking up. She just knew that in the past twenty minutes Draco hadn't moved, and she wondered if he had been petrified. She never saw anyone sit so still for so long.

"Draco," she whispered. "Say something. Anything."

He looked at her through his fingers, sighed, and sat up straight, a leg stretched out in front of him. "What can I say, Hermione? What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever it is your thinking."

He combed his fingers through his hair. "I - I don't know... I don't know what I'm thinking... How can you be sick? You're _Granger_, you can't get sick."

"I'm not perfect," she reminded him.

"That's bullshit, and you know it! Of course you are."

"You're delusional."

Groaning, he kicked the side table. It banged loudly against the wall, but Madam Promfrey didn't look up from her studies much less flinch at the noise. He groaned again. "What do I do?"

It didn't matter if she didn't know if he was talking to himself, or to her, Hermione felt her heart sink. She knew when she got the news of the illness what she had to do - what she expected Draco to do when he found out. "You have to ask?"

"People do that when they don't know something."

She forced out a humorless laugh. Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked fast hoping to keep the them at bay. She worked to keep her voice steady. She didn't imagine that she would be the one to say it. She imagined he would be the one to do it. She wondered if he was doing it to her on purpose, making it harder than it had to be. If it was his form of a punishment. For what she didn't know. "It has to happen sooner or later. Maybe it's better if it ends now."

He stared incredulous at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Us."

"You want to end us?"

She bit her lip to keep the truth from slipping out. "We were only going to last until graduation, or the war, whichever happens first. We were just having fun - it didn't mean anything. It'll be miserable for us both to be together when I'm like the way I am. This is your escape route, I understand you leaving."

"An escape route?"

"Why kid yourself? You weren't going to sit by my bed, and do the good boyfriend thing." She cringed at the word boyfriend, but pushed forward. "I wouldn't expect that from you. It's okay, you can leave. Don't act like you didn't know this was coming."

* * *

_Act_? Who was acting? Draco felt like hitting something. He would kick the side table again if he was certain that he wouldn't be thrown out by Madam Promfrey. No matter how immersed she seemed to be in her books he couldn't know for sure.

He could see it there in her face. Hermione was telling the truth, she really didn't expect him to do the "good boyfriend thing." It was ironic since that was exactly what he planned to do. How could he not? He didn't feel guilty that she was sick, it wasn't a good enough reason to waste his time in the Infirmary. It was because it was her. She was his angel, his hope, the only good thing in his life. Sick, or not, how could he give that up? Give her up?

It was all nonsense. Every bit of it. Of course he knew that they were going to come to an end. How could they not? They were Granger, and a Malfoy. They could never be, no matter how badly he wished for it, how much he dreamed of it. He wanted her, any part of her he could get. It was one thing to know that it was all true, it was another to hear it from her. She might as well run his heart over a bunch of jagged rocks for all the good it would do.

Draco pressed his hands against his knees glaring into her eyes as he stood. He was losing his mind sitting there listening to her truths. It was too much for him.

"Draco -"

"Malfoy," he corrected harshly. "You're right, Granger. I knew it was coming. It was only a fling, it meant nothing." He babbled, wanting to hurt her more than she hurt him which sickened him to do. "It was fun, but you're right, I wouldn't want anything to do with someone who's sick."

The pain on her face stabbed him deeply. He thought he would cave in his declarations, and so he ran out the door not looking back. He would never look back again if he knew who he was. Somewhere in the nights with her behind the statue, between the secrets, lies, and truths he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. Somewhere in her kiss he lost himself for good.

_"Don't act like you didn't know this was coming."_ Her voice echoed in his head, taunting him. He knew it was coming, he just didn't believe it. A part of him wanted to believe that they would make it, somehow, someway. In the end they would live happily ever after.

If the last month wasn't proof enough happily ever after's didn't exist. The strongest girl he knew was sick, and recognizing her need to fight with her comrades there was no chance that she wouldn't be killed. He might be killed too.

Draco's tense muscles nearly gave up on him by the time he reached the dungeon. The common room was empty. Classes were still in session. He should go to class, but he couldn't find the will to concentrate.

For a moment, only a moment he would give in to his desires. He fell on the couch, curled up, and screamed out every bit of his agony.

* * *

Hermione sucked in deep breaths. She made herself breathe. The moment the door slammed behind him she drew her knees to her chest, and tried to stifle the tears. She wasn't sure if Madam Promfrey knew that she was crying, but she was thankful that if she did know, she pretended not to.

Tears like rivers fell down her face drenching the pillow that she laid on. It was a physical pain beyond what she thought she could feel. There was nothing like it. Her heart was literally breaking, she could feel in it her chest, and she wanted it to just give up, but it was never that easy.

Her body wracked with tears. They would never stop. She did eventually cry herself to sleep an hour later, but when she woke, and felt the cold wetness against her cheek she shook with tears all over again. This time there were two warm hands grasping her arm. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that her two best friends were with her. They didn't ask questions, or say a word, because they thought they knew what she was upset about. It was a good thing too, because they could never know the truth unless she wanted to lose them too.

The tears, never ending. They kept falling, stinging, and choking her. It was just as well. She deserved every bit of pain she had coming to her. It was her fault, she was the one who began a relationship that was doomed before it began. _Oh, how stupid I've been..._

A/N: I'll apologise here for my short chapters, as some of you may have noticed I do have a... I don't want to say habit... I don't like to push myself, and compromise a piece just so it is longer, so I hope you understand.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Weak

In a final gulp she finished the goblet of water setting it aside so she could finish her Astronomy homework. It blurred under her, but it wasn't because of tears. No, her tears were an oasis in a desert, and she had gone through them very quickly. Now she was a robot. School took up every aspect of her life. She barely talked with Harry, and Ron, though they were careful to never leave her alone.

"Hermione," Harry hesitated. "Um... Saturn... Is this right?" He shoved his parchment towards her.

She looked over his thin handwriting. She nodded, and pushed it back to him. She heard him sigh in frustration. He was hoping that she would say something she knew. There was nothing to say. There was no sense in talking when it would do no good, it wouldn't make anything better.

"Hermione! This is mad! Talk to us!" Ron nearly yelled in the common room turning a few heads to them.

"Shut up, Ron," she hushed.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Hermione finally spoke," he snarled sarcastically.

Harry waved him down. "We're just worried about you."

"I'm fine -"

"No, you're not."

She sighed slamming down her quill. "I raise my hand in class, I answer the questions that are asked, I do my homework. I'm not allowed to go too far in the castle because I can't _walk_ that far, and I have to take some of them _here_, but I get my work done, I'm keeping my duties though it physically _hurts_. I'm _good_." She didn't mention that she was no longer a Prefect. They already knew that, and it wasn't something she liked to remember, handing over her badge. She cried all night because of it. The second time she cried over her frail state, the first being when she looked into a mirror in the girls bathroom. She looked so... Normal. Healthy. Aside from the light circles under her eyes where sleep evaded her too many nights, and her face without a hint of color. Sometimes it did... When her blood pressure was high.

"But you're not happy."

She slammed her book close, and gathered all of her belongings in her arms. "I'm going to bed," she announced loftily.

From the corner of the room came a small voice, "she doesn't do a thing all day long, but she'll sleep. It's amazing what a know-it-all can get away with." Lavender turned up her nose.

"Shove it, Lavender," Ron said angrily.

Hermione ignored them all jogging up the stairs to the girls dormitory. She dumped her things on the bed, and leaned against her headboard bringing her parchment to rest on her knees. It was quiet, peaceful. Being alone was a lot better alternative lately than seeing the inquisitive stares out of the corner of her eye, the sympathy, and having to hear the whispered questions. She missed her classes terribly (the ones that she was not allowed to attend because of the distance), but it had its upside in the respect that it kept her away from the other students for most of the day.

Then again, it didn't matter what they did, because she wouldn't want to be with them anyway. There was only person that she wanted, and it was the one she couldn't have.

* * *

"Draco, mate, what's the matter with you lately?"

Draco cursed as he broke his quill. That's what he got for pressing down so hard on his parchment. All over his essay of the effects of Bloodroot on the muggle versus wizard body were black splotches. It was a mess. He may have been Professor Snape's favorite student, but even he wasn't going to accept the monstrosity that was his homework.

"Draco," Blaise called once more trying to divert his attention.

"I'm _fine_," he insisted. He touched his wand to his parchment the splotches fading until there was no signs they existed in the first place. Fade the evidence, the past until nothing was left. Too bad the spell didn't work in another case.

"Right, you look it. You look like you were spat out by a dragon."

"Shut it, Blaise."

"Seriously, what is it with you? You've been biting everyone's heads off more than usual."

"I spent too long with that damn dragon. Now bugger off, Blaise." He got to his feet collecting his things in his arms. "Sit," he growled at Gregory, and Vincent when they tried to follow.

He went up to the boys dormitory, and dropped his homework on the bed. He looked out the window, and saw that the sun was setting painting the sky a pink, and gold. Normally at this time he would be in the common room, joking, and telling Crabb, and Vincent to do dumb things merely for his entertainment, and a couple of hours later he would wait for his roommates to fall asleep so he could sneak out, and meet Hermione. One day changed everything. One thing changed it all. One moment they were happy, kissing, living in the moment with each other, and the next it was gone. A dementor couldn't have sucked his happiness out faster than she could - than she did.

No matter how hard he tried to get over her, he couldn't. Every class they shared he would take chance glances to inspect her features, her behavior attempting to decode how she felt. If she was worse, or better. He would strain to hear in the corridors, and Great Hall for any information on her. He was going slowly crazy. What he was feeling was insane, but it was the most authentic feeling he ever had.

Without thinking it through he walked out of the dormitory, down the steps, out of the common room, out into the corridors. They were emptying as the light emptied from the sky. He kept walking paying no mind to those around him, but when he reached the One Eyed Witch statue he was alone. He ducked behind it falling into its shadows. He sat in the corner.

The place next to him was where him, and Hermione... A bludger to the gut was nothing like the memories that hit him then. They smothered him, but not good enough, because he was still breathing. Breathing was exactly what got him through the days. If he was breathing he was alive. That was his assurance that the rest of him hadn't died in that Infirmary.

* * *

She must have lost her mind. She was being crazy. She shouldn't be wandering through the hallways this late at night, but she had to free herself from Lavender's snoring. Okay it was a lie, or at least partially, because Lavender did snore something horrible. Hermione wasn't wandering, she knew exactly where she was going, it was something that compelled her.

Everyone needed closure. It was the ultimate way to move on. It was treatment for a deep wound. _One more time_, she told herself. After she had her closure she would move on, she wouldn't think about him again, or at least not in the sense that he had been anything but her enemy. Maybe she would gain enough of her sagacity to cringe, and wretch when she thought of what they had.

The sight of that ugly One Eyed Witch statue had her eyes wet. It was all too familiar to her, but she moved forward. If she could stay there for a minute she would be okay. She would go back to her bed, and wake up the next morning refreshed, and normal.

When she moved behind the statue she was winded by what she saw in the corner, and she held her gasp quiet. A flaxen boy sitting in the corner with his legs outstretched, his chin on his chest.

She thought briefly of kicking him. He was too sweet looking when he was asleep it didn't seem fair. It didn't even seem real, she couldn't come up with a logical reason why he was there.

Hermione sat beside him running her fingers down his arm. He didn't stir. She blew in his ear. He flinched, but didn't wake. She poked him. No reaction. She laid her head on his shoulder. Again, nothing. She closed her eyes, and inhaled his expensive dark cologne.

She was setting herself up. She shouldn't be in that position, she should have left him. Too bad every rational reason went out the window when she saw him. Too bad she wasn't strong enough to resist.

* * *

He must've been dreaming. There was no possible way that she could be there with him leaning on his shoulder fast asleep, her hair a curtain over her lovely face. Ever so gentle, just to make sure she was real, to see what was under all that hair, he brushed it out of the way tucking it behind her ear. It certainly felt real, he remembered that her hair was softer than it looked, and her face was lovely as always, her long lashes, pink kissable lips. It was all real. It was torture.

Draco ran one finger down from her hairline, her brow, her nose, her lips that slightly parted, to her chin. "Kill me now," he whispered. Louder he called, "Hermione, wake up."

She stirred, but otherwise didn't wake.

"Love... Wake up."

Slowly she opened her eyes, and looked up at him with shock. He suddenly wished he hadn't woken her so soon. He could have used a couple of decades of sitting there with her.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Oh!" She tried to jump, but he grabbed her arm pulling her back down next to him.

"It's all right. Calm down. You don't want to have another attack."

She breathed deeply. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry - I'm not."

She stopped moving entirely. "What?"

"I said I'm not sorry."

"What time is it?" She lifted her wrist to check the time, but he grabbed it covering the face.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!"

"You have your priorities really messed up, Hermione."

"Granger," she corrected.

"Hermione!"

"Granger!"

"Hermione!"

"Malfoy," she warned.

He laughed. "One day!"

"What?!"

"Please," he begged serious now. "Please don't leave."

"Draco," she began softly.

He cut her off. "No, don't. Don't say whatever it is you're about to say. Listen to me."

She relaxed out of curiosity. "Okay..."

"This isn't working for me. It was only supposed to be a fling, but... It wasn't. You were wrong when you said I wouldn't sit there beside you like a good boyfriend, because I would have, I was planning to, I wanted to. I didn't even _think_ of leaving you. I knew one day we would both go our separate ways, because we are both going to lead very different lives, but maybe we won't have to. What if I stayed? What if I refused to become a death eater?"

"They'll kill you," she said in the same soft tone.

"I'll take the risk."

"I'll never get better."

"Regardless, I'll never stop loving you."

"You're insane."

"Yes."

"You're out of your mind."

"Redundant."

"I love you."

"Good," he mumbled before stealing her mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Lifeless

A tube in her flesh connecting to her veins flooded the blood out. At least that's what it felt like. Hermione was colorless, tired, and couldn't lift her head off of her pillow. She tried many times. There was simply no energy in her. She fell asleep a dozen times through-out the morning vaguely aware that she had classes. The need to get up twisted her gut, but nothing could make her lift her head. A big part of her stopped caring. If she missed her classes so be it. She couldn't help it. She cursed her weakness.

"Hermione? Are you awake?"

Parvati's voice floated behind the curtain separating them. Hermione opened her mouth, and then closed it. She didn't know how to answer. She was barely awake, her surroundings in a haze, her heart sore as if she had run too long, and too hard.

"Hermione," Parvati pulled the curtain back, and gasped when she saw her. "Hermione!

If she said her name one more time she might have to find the will to get her wand, and curse her. She didn't know why Parvati was staring at her that way, as though she was an alien.

Her roommate disappeared for a few seconds to return with a small mirror. Speechless she held it up for Hermione to see into it.

If she wasn't considering every breath to be precious she would have gasped. Her skin was gray, her lips blue. She looked dead. Even her chocolate eyes lost their depth.

"Say something," Parvati begged.

"Mmm," was all she could manage. She turned her head away from her, closing her eyes against her lifeless reflection. Only Parvati would think her looks would matter at this point.

"I should get someone - a professor. Hold on here."

If she could she would've laugh. Where was she going to go? Did Parvati truly believe she would miss her classes on purpose? She'd drink a galleon of Polyjuice potion before she would miss her classes, though it was a better alternative to what she was feeling then.

It wasn't known to her how long she laid there. Through the fog all she could think was that right there was her life. She would be useless. She wouldn't amount to nothing. She could see her dreams flying out the window without so much as a proper goodbye. How could she have a career when she couldn't make her classes? She wouldn't be any good to any one.

It wasn't night, and she stopped wishing on stars long ago leaving that behind with other childish things, but she had nothing else to lose. She silently wished for her life back. She wanted her dreams to be probable. So perhaps if wishing on stars could by some illogical reasoning could come true, and if she had enough luck which clearly she didn't, maybe she had the right timing, and somewhere out there was a shooting star just for her that would give back her life.

Hermione breathed, a sharp pain shooting through her chest to her back. She stopped. Shallow breaths were better. She fell sleep before Professor McGonagall came.

* * *

Draco shouldered his heavy book bag. He should have left at least half the books back in his trunk, but he didn't feel like going back there to be subjected to Blaise's questions, and Crabb, and Goyle that looked on with stupidity. No, he'd rather take every book he would need, get an extra work-out, and hide during his break. If he was lucky he could avoid the common room until it was empty. That was only if he was lucky, which he clearly wasn't. If he was, he wouldn't be wracked with worry about his girlfriend.

It was only last night that she told him she loved him. It filled him to the brim with contentment. No, contentment wasn't the word. Happiness couldn't cover it either. It was unexplainable. It was three words he could live the rest of his life on, and he couldn't wait to hear it from her again, he only wished he said something other than "good." He should've said it back, but he was too elated - yes that was the word - to blurt it out.

He shifted his book bag once more before trudging his way through the crowd to Charms. The word "elated," came to him a second time. He checked his schedule that morning, and saw that they were sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors. This usually set him off in a bad mood, but Hermione would be there, it was a class she could make.

This mood vanished when he walked into Charms. Professor Flitwick stood on his four foot tall stack of books, every student there in their seats chattering happily with the person in front of them, behind them, across the room... Except for one. He combed the classroom again, and again, but she wasn't there. He glared at Potter, and Weasley twitching in their seats. There was only one way to find out...

"Potter! What's got your wand in a knot? Dreaming about Demonters? Bet they would love to kiss you."

Potter sneered grabbing onto the sleeve of Weasley's robe to keep him in his seat. This was usually enough to pacify Draco for a good hour, but it wasn't what he wanted at the moment. There were more important matters at hand than the miserable existence of his two enemies.

"Where's the mudblood?" Inside he cringed at the use of the old name he called her, but continued with the charade. "Did her buck teeth wear her down?"

"It's none of your business, Malfoy," Weasley hissed.

"Touchy. Then you don't know either? Given the slip to you already? About time she got tired of being around you two."

"What do you care for," Potter challenged. "What's she to you?"  
Draco almost smiled. Potter would surely fall out of his chair if he answered his question truthfully. She was his everything.

"Nothing," he lied, "except a know-it-all buck-tooth witch." He spun halfway around to stalk off, but was frozen by Potter's next question.

"Witch? When have you ever called her a witch?"

_Damn_, Draco thought. Damage control, there had to be a way out of the situation he gotten himself into. He could hear Hermione criticizing him as if she was right next to him. She could probably find a way out of it with ease, but Draco missed too many beats, and Potter narrowed his eyes, Weasley had gone pale.

"What are you planning," Potter asked.

Draco felt a rush of relief. They thought he was up to something. That was better than the truth. He would have to go along with it, allow him to give him the perfect escape. "Do you expect me to answer?" Before they could retort he hurried to his seat with the other Slytherin's that were now glancing warily at him. That was the closest to a civil conversation he had with Potter, and neither of them drew their wands. How could they not be suspicious? He would have to lay low, keep an ear out for any news, and wait. Waiting was the worse. He didn't have the patience for it.

Draco was out of class first, and was lost to his fellow students before they could get into the corridor. By then he was leaving the corner heading straight for the Infirmary. If she wasn't in class that would be the only place she could be. Nothing could keep her away from her studies. It had to be serious. He felt sweat breaking out on his forehead, but it wasn't from the run.

He longed for the days where he would go to the library if he couldn't find her. She would be sitting in the back crook. From the piles of thick books surrounding her all that could be seen was the top of her bushy head. She would never notice when he approached her. It had nothing to do with how stealthy he actually was, because he could be quite silent. Herds of elephants could be stampeding behind her, and she wouldn't notice a thing, unless her book happened to be taken away from her. That was strictly forbidden as an act to get her attention. She drew her wand on him once for it, and he never tried it again. He sighed in contemplation. She must really miss her books.

He halted in his tracks, and grinned to himself. First years hurried past him as if he contained a contagious disease. He looked crazy, but sometimes crazy got mixed with genius. Genius for the idea he had, crazy for having to go back to his dormitory.

* * *

Hermione would have felt loads better if someone had just beaten her with a ball bat. Everything was so difficult. She had to work to breath. She had to work not to throw herself out of a window. It all hurt so much. She was nauseas, the room spinning with sickening colors of white, and gray. The Infirmary itself sickened her, but only because she felt that she was there every day. They could get rid of her bed in the dormitory for all the use it was getting.

The blood slowly moved its way through her system her feet propped up on several pillows for better circulation. Her natural color was starting to come back, but with all that it took out of her she wouldn't look much better than the living dead.

She didn't open her eyes when she heard the knock at the door. There were a lot of students that were coming down with a cold. Madam Promfrey set a new rule in place that one couldn't enter without her permission. That was another downside to the illness. She had a very low immune system, and one little bug would have her down for months. It seemed like her life got worse by the hour.

Madam Promfrey hushed through the crack in the door, "Mr. Malfoy... Are you sure you don't have any symptoms of a cold, or flu? You don't have a tickle in your throat? An earache?"

"No, I do not!" He sounded as if he took personal offense to a suggestion that he might be sick. "May I come in, and see her now, or do you want to run some tests on me to be sure?"

"I... Guess," she said cynically. "Quickly though. Not a minute past five!"

Hermione opened her eyes, and saw Draco lugging his bulging book bag. It looked more full than usual. Soon it would bust through the seams. It made a loud thump on the floor when he saw her.

"Hermione," he said in a tone that suggested his heart was breaking. "What..."

Madam Promfrey came up behind him. "She's fine," she assured. "Her blood has trouble pulling through her body is all."

"She's so..."

"I'm paler than you," Hermione croaked losing all the humor she intended to put in the statement.

Draco shook his head, and waved his hand to signal Madam Promfrey to leave. This irritated her, and cause a slight "huff" loud enough that Hermione could hear, and a mumble about visiting a fellow staff member. Draco took no notice of it, and sat beside her on the bed.

He ran his index finger along her hairline, over her brow, then her cheekbone. He traced her chapped, gray lips that felt like they would bleed. "Beautiful," he stated.  
"You know that isn't true."

"Oh, but I do."

"You need your eyes checked."

"You need to rest, don't worry about my eyes."

She smirked, "what about your brain?"

He rolled his eyes, "I can give you a hundred insults to that one, but you're sick -"

"Don't use that. Come on, hit me with your best one."

He pressed his forehead against hers, their noses touching. She could feel the hot breeze of his breath on her lips, his fingertips caressing her arms. They trailed from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. Back, and forth. She swallowed dryly.

The spell they were in broke when there was a sharp rap the door. Draco jumped to his feet as Madam Promfrey cracked it open sticking her head through. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she said loudly in warning.

Hermione softly gasped, and motioned for him to hide under the bed. Draco gave one glance to the door, and laid on his stomach rolling under the bed just in time when Harry, and Ron walked in.

They both looked worried, giving her pitiful looks that she despised. "I'm fine," she insisted her mind under the bed.

"Of course you are, Hermione," Ron said mockingly. They both sat in the seats conjured by Madam Promfrey. Ron splayed his legs out the feet disappearing under her bed. She bit her lip waiting for the revelation that someone was there. None came. Draco must've dodged.

"This decides it," Harry started. "When the war comes you're sitting out."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"You won't be any help to us in this condition."

She glowered throwing invisible daggers at them. "Oh, and who's going to research the information you need? Ron? Humph." Beneath her was a muffled chuckle, and she coughed a fit to cover it. Harry, and Ron only shook their heads sadly at this not catching her act.

"You can still research information," Ron said not taking offense by what she said. He knew as well as she did that he wouldn't go through all those books if he could avoid it.

"But you can't come with us to the battles."

Hermione crossed her arms defiantly, but unable to argue. They had a very good point. She would be useless out there. She let her hand drop to the side of the bed away from them, and felt Draco hold it comfortingly squeezing his sympathies through it.

"Hey, do you mind if I borrow your History book, Hermione? I haven't done my essay for Professor Binns yet."

She looked over to see Ron bent over shuffling through the dozen of books in Draco's book bag. "Ron -"

"Wait," Harry interrupted scrutinizing the book bag. "This doesn't look like yours." He cocked his head to read to initials on the flap. "'D.M.'"

Draco's hand constricted painfully.

Ron studied the flap too. "Who's DM?"

Hermione thought quickly. Who else had those initials? No one. Draco... 'D'... Dean! Dean Thomas... "It's Deans, he put his middle name."

"Who does that?"

"Dean apparently. I don't know, Ronald - honestly, ask him yourself." She hoped she could get to Dean before them. Those chance were slim, but she had to try.

"Doesn't look like Dean's handwriting. His is much neater."

"Are you calling me a liar?" _Because I am,_ she thought.

Harry peered at her over his glasses. "Are you?"

"Don't you trust me?!" She tried to place as much accusation as she could in her rhetorical question. She hated herself more then than she had in her whole relationship with Draco. She never had to lie to her friends about it, because there were no questions to how she felt about Draco. She thought she would always be in the clear. Things were getting much too complicated now.

* * *

Draco propped himself up on his elbow to hold her hand. He stared reprovingly at two sets of trainers, ones that looked new, and the others that looked like they came from a second rate rubbage bin sale. He couldn't stand the way they were torturing her. Her nails dug into his hand.

"Why are you avoiding the question," Potter asked.

"Why would you think I'd lie?"

Potter sounded apologetic. "Hermione, this isn't Dean's handwriting... It doesn't even look like his book bag."

Her hand shook. He pulled out of her hold kissing her palm. He inhaled as much air as he could. He needed every brave molecule that the ruddy Gryffindors were polluting to do what he knew he was going to do. What he had to do. He rolled out of the bed, and stood.

From that day forward he would relish the looks on Potter, and Weasley's faces. They looked like they were attacked by a hoard of Bludgers. He would laugh if he thought they weren't going to kill him right there.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy," Weasley growled.

Draco took her hand again seeing her incredulous expression. He nodded to her, his sign that it would be okay. He might be murdered by them, but they wouldn't dare hurt her. "I'm visiting my girlfriend in the Infirmary."

They glared venomously at their joined hands. Potter's chest heaved heavily, Weasley turned away head on fire.

"Let her go," Potter hissed.

"What? Her hand?" Draco gave his infamous sneer. "You think this is the only way I've touched her? Oomph!" He flipped over the bed behind him, the wind knocked from him. He didn't even see Potter raise his wand much less hear the hex.

"Harry," Hermione screeched.

"Fine," Draco mumbled. "Fine." He got his wand from his pocket before getting to his feet. He faced two wands.

"Stop it! Stop it you three!"

They all ignored her.

"I don't know what spell you have her under, but you _will_ reverse it," Potter spat.

"What makes you think I have her under a spell?!"

"Because Hermione would never like you," Weasley yelled still red.

Draco shook his head. "You'll talk to Hermione about her feelings. You won't believe it from me."

"You're right!"

"But I can admit my own, and I do love her."

"What are you playing at?"

He stuck his wand in his back pocket, and held up his hands. Potter, and Weasley's eyes grew as large as saucers. "You're armed, I'm not. I wouldn't curse you two -"

"Since when?"

"Since I fell in love with her... Hurting you would hurt her, and I won't do that. If you stand out of my way I'll leave."

Potter, and Weasley gave futile glances at each other before parting.

Draco moved sideways, and slid past them. He went over to Hermione careful in his actions in case Potter decided to defend. He bent kissing her very warm, and wet cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Two of the three friends looked as though they would hurl.

A/N: Since I got a couple of questions asking if the one previous was the last chapter (obviously now it wasn't), but I will state here that this story is ten chapters long plus an epilogue. I'm thinking that maybe I should include the number of chapters to be expected at the beginning of a story.

In case it wasn't obvious I tried to find a place where Draco's "genius idea" was mentioned more clearly, but unfortunatly I didn't feel comfortable with any sort of spot, I don't think it is ever mentioned. What it was is he went to the library to check out a bunch of random books, piled them in his book bag, and delivered them to her.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The Price of Happiness

Harry, and Ron refused to believe that Hermione wasn't under a love spell until Madam Promfrey assured them she wasn't. They spent the next month in denial, and disgust at her pitching ideas for a logical explanation at the other for her behavior. If she thought that was bad it was nothing compared to the next month when they admitted that it was Hermione's choice to start a relationship with their worst enemy aside from Voldemort. This caused them to ignore her completely.

Hermione spent every free time she had in the library, or on the grounds with Draco. They kept each other company. Word had gotten around quickly about the two of them, and the Gryffindor's, and Slytherin's had never hated each other more, nor hated Hermione, and Draco. Everywhere they went they earned angry stares.

The stress was eating at Hermione. It made her sicker. She barely touched her food knowing that whatever she put in her stomach wouldn't stay there for long. Her skin became ashened except for the dark lines under her puffy eyes. Madam Promfrey insisted on her taking potions to curb the symptoms, but it did little to help. She would never get better.

In the library she held his hand while her head rested in her other pouring over a book she could hardly give her attention to. She crossed her legs on her chair attempting to keep her blood moving through her system. It was the best thing next to lying down.

In the months following she learned of other symptoms (they were endless), smelling things that no one else smelled (smoke, perfume), and some of her favorite foods tasted funny, stale sometimes. She had lost five pounds due to her eating habits. Draco had frequented the Gryffindor table (much to everyone's horror) to coax her to eat more. Rarely did it work.

The words in front of her made no sense, she couldn't concentrate. She must have groaned again, because instead of caressing her fingers with his thumb he reached over slamming the book closed.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically.

He grasped her chin to turn her face to his. "Is it worth it?"

She wanted to cry for the hundredth time that week. "Is it?"

He laughed darkly. "I can live without my mates, or the expectations of me. I'll be fine. It's you that I'm worried about. Can you live without them?"

That was the one question on her mind since Harry, and Ron found out. _Could_ she live without them? She was doing okay so far. She studied, ate, slept, breathed just fine without them. She could survive without them. The real question was if she could be happy. She loved Draco, he made her happy, but... She needed her friends. The only person that would speak to her was Luna, and she couldn't live on Luna's conversations about creatures that didn't exist it could be downright irritating.

When she didn't answer he frowned. "I love you, Hermione."

Tears stung her eyes. She knew what he meant. He loved her enough to let her go, and there was nothing she could say to convince him to stay. He would stay if she asked him, but she couldn't do that either. He didn't deserve what she was putting him through. He deserved so much better. "I love you too," translation: _"I love you, I'm sorry."_

He moved his hand from her chin to her cheek, and kissed her softly. A last kiss. When cold air touched her sensitive skin she opened her eyes. He was gone.

* * *

Draco walked through the corridors. He ground his teeth. He gripped his wand. He made a low rumbling sound his throat whenever a fellow student got too close to him. That made them jump back a few feet.

He left her. He loathed himself for it. He left her there. It was for a good reason. She deserved to be happy, and if those two gits made it so then he would gladly step aside. It was not something she could have both of, it was either him, or them, and he felt blessed enough that she had chosen him. He wasn't worthy of that from her. Unlike them he had spent most of their Hogwarts years making her purposefully miserable. At least he would have that. At least he told her he loved her, and he heard it from her in return.

Before he knew where he was going he was on the grounds, not a breeze in the air to suggest so. The sun was bright, no clouds in the clear blue sky. It was too peaceful. He wanted a storm, lightening to set the Whomping Willow on fire. Anything to equal what he was feeling inside.

A good distance away he spotted a small group hovering by the lake. Potter, Weasley, Weaslette, and Lovegood. Perfect.

He tried strolling over casually, but his feet stomped the whole way. Soon they spotted him. They all glared except for Lovegood, but she was an oddity among the odd. He didn't expect less from her.

"What do you want, Malfoy," Weaslette asked her brows furrowed as he stopped in front of them.

"Hermione's in the library. She's upset, someone should see to her."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I gave her up."

They were frozen statues in shock awaiting an explanation.

"She misses her friends. It's beyond me _why_ she does," he rolled his eyes for effect. "This is the best way I knew to make her happy again. If you won't speak to her because of me... Well... I'm out of the picture now. Go talk with her."

"That's very selfless of you," Lovegood commented airily. "You must love her. It's very romantic. Romeo, and Juliet."

Draco huffed, not having to ask who the couple was. An old Muggle story… It was even popular among the Wizarding community. He read it out of curiosity. "I'm not Romeo... Romeo would rather they die than be apart from Juliet. I'd rather that Hermione was happy than let her stab herself in the chest."

"And what about your happiness?"

He should have known better than to try to talk with them with Lovegood around. She - of course - would ask questions, not agreeing with the rest of them. She thought him, and Hermione were romantic? What was the least bit romantic about it? Sure, it was a tragedy, but romantic? No, romantic, and heartbreak don't go together.

"My happiness," Draco responded, "is non-existent without her -"

"What a shame," Weasley mumbled though his sister looked more thoughtful at Draco's response.

He ignored him. "With her, and without, her happiness mine is still non-existent."

Lovegood fingered the bottle cap around her neck idly. "That seems unfair."

"Nothing is fair." Before he hexed them all he left walking along the edge of the lake hoping that the squid would take him under. Anything to end the pain he was feeling without her.

He once was Romeo. He was selfish. He was conceited. But he couldn't be Romeo any longer. Juliet could never be his. He wouldn't let their story end the way theirs did. He would make sure they survived, even if it meant without the other.

* * *

Hermione buried her head in her arms. She hadn't moved from the seat in the library where Draco left her. Her heart ached in a way that had nothing to do with the illness. This was the way it had to be. She couldn't have Draco. They were never supposed to be together. Somehow fate messed up their future.

There was a soft touch on her shoulder. Her heart plummeted. She knew it wasn't Draco, and therefore she saw little reason to look up. It didn't matter whose it was. It could be Madam Pince the librarian for all she was concerned.

"Hermione," Ginny asked softly.

Ginny? Hermione looked up, and indeed saw her old red-haired friend beside her. Along the table she was surrounded by Harry, Ron, and Luna. They were all there with her.

"What is it, Ginny, I'm studying." They all knew it was a lie.

"Draco told us what happened."

"You must be so happy." Her voice was dead, toneless.

"No."

"Yes."

Hermione glanced from Ginny, to Ron, and shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I have exams to study for, I have to get down to business."

"Your grades can't get better," Harry pointed out.

"Leave me be," Hermione snapped, and all of their mouths dropped slightly, all except Luna who was staring dreamily out of the window. "You didn't want me, remember?"

Ron tried to reach for her hand, but she jerked back. "It wasn't that. It was Mafloy. Seriously, Hermione, how did you think we'd handle it?"

"You weren't supposed to find out! It was supposed to end before we left school!"

"That makes everything better," Harry said acidly. "Don't tell your friends what's going on! That you're seeing their enemy!"

"It wasn't like that." _Except it was,_ she added silently.

"You can't be happy with him!"

"I was!" Hastily she dumped the books, parchments, and quills inside of her bag. She swung it over her shoulder, and stood to leave.

"We're sorry," Ginny apologized emotionally. Ron grunted coldly.

Hermione shoved past her clutching the strap to her book bag. The ache in her chest, would it ever go away? No, she was cursed with pain for the rest of her life.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Draco's Task

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Luna stayed close by Hermione. Wherever she went at least one of them were by her. Especially Ron - he rarely left her alone. The only solitude she could find was in her dormitory. Like she had when she was seeing Draco she did all of her homework there. Parvati, Lavender, and the other girls rarely bothered her. They harbored their grudge against Hermione for betraying their house.

Draco's name was taboo among them. No one spoke of him, or the past relationship she had with him. The way they acted like nothing had changed was so forced someone could see a spark of tension in the air. It was another reason she tried to escape them.

In her classes she paid no mind to the blonde haired boy. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her movements with interest, but she pretended as though she didn't notice. As though she didn't care. She did care. She cared too much.

That night in her bed while her roommates slept she was immersed in her essay of ancient Egypt, and a possible Goblin rebellion there. It was easy enough considering that she read about it years before hand. It was a good thing too, as she was sure that she would have to help Harry, and Ron as she always had to do. Without her she didn't know how they would pass, one day perhaps she would make them stand on their own.

Beside her was a sharp, but quiet hooting. She pulled back her curtain, and saw a haughty eagle owl perched on her nightstand with an envelope in his beak. Draco's owl. Her heart leapt, and inwardly she reprimanded herself for it. She took the envelope ripping it open only glancing out of the open window where a cool breeze blew through.

_H.G._

_Meet me at the One Eyed Witch statue as soon as possible. This will burn after you read it._

_D.M._

She read the letter over, and over again. By the eleventh time when she decided that she wasn't misconstruing it in any way she realized she should have felt happy he wanted to see her, but she wasn't. This was too good to be true. They ended it. She ripped the letter into shreds holding the pieces in her fist.

She scolded herself the whole time as she threw the confetti into the heater it bursting into flames, and dying quickly.

She dressed in jeans, a shirt, and her school robe. Securely she stuck her wand in her back pocket, and crept out of her dormitory. Lavender was snoring, something she hadn't noticed before while she was writing. If that wasn't enough hint that it was late the common room was deserted. She breathed a sigh of relief that none of them were waiting for her.

If only they knew what she was doing...

* * *

Draco paced behind the One Eyed Witch statue. He couldn't believe he was doing this. What he was about to do... Her friends would murder him for. It was the only way, the safest way.

He gripped his left forearm. There was nothing there, he hadn't been branded with the Dark Mark. Yet. Next year he would if he survived the war. If Voldemort won. Nothing was certain in the crazy world. He swore he would never like Granger, but when Granger became Hermione, he fell in love, another thing he swore he wouldn't do. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. The only task he was going to die to complete was not one of the Dark Lord's, but of his own. He had to protect Hermione. If it was the last thing he did he would make sure she survived what was coming tomorrow night.

He stopped pacing immediately when he heard a second set of footsteps. They were softer, a slower rhythm. Hermione's footsteps. He leaned against the wall crossing his arms over his chest as if he hadn't been nervously twitching the whole time waiting for her.

Hermione appeared around the statue. Her bushy brown hair, deep brown eyes, pink lips, soft pale skin. She was beautiful as always.

"Draco?"

He pushed away from the wall, and his body acted on auto-pilot. He wasn't aware of what he was doing until he was holding her tightly around her waist burying his face in her air. He shouldn't have done it, but it might've been the last time for both of them. He kissed her cheek moving quickly to her lips. He half-expected her to shove him off, but she answered his kisses just as eagerly.

Stepping forward she stepped back. He enveloped her against the wall, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh of her hips. He drew his attention to her neck, and bit down hard. She didn't cry out in protest, but moaned. He was going to leave his mark on her. She was going to be his in some sense. This part of her would always be his. Whether he lived, or died tomorrow he would be hers. To the end of time this part of him would belong to no one else. No matter who came, or went, they would be each other's in some way.

Death... It was going to come. People were going to die. That's why he was there. With every bit of his inner strength he broke their session. He rested his cheek on hers, listening to their labored breathing for a minute, her chest heaving against his in torture.

"Hermione...?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

He grabbed her hand. "Come with me." He led her to the back of the statue, and took out his wand tapping it on the witch's hump. "Dissendium." They stood back as the hump opened to reveal darkness. It was pitch black.

"Draco, how did you know -"

He sniggered. "You think only the Weasley twins know the secret passages?" He snorted. "Right, I know just as much as they do."

"This leads to Honeydukes."

"I know."

"Why are we going there?"

"You said you trusted me, Hermione," he reminded her. He tugged on her hand, and only a second did she not move, and then she was following him down the cold steps into the icy atmosphere that was below the school. They lit their wands to show the grimy path.

They walked on for miles. She shivered next to him, and he circled his arm around her waist hoping his heat could be of some help. Beads of sweat gathered at his hairline trickling down his face. He was nervously hot.

The further they went the slower she became, her steps stumbling. He glimpsed at her seeing her eyes glassy like a roll of clouds over the sun. He knew what was coming, and caught her just in time as she fell, her wand falling from her fingertips clicking with the wood on stone sound below.

Draco positioned her to his side carefully picking up her wand. He scooped her up, and continued walking, the two wands in his hold. Though he wished so, there was no time to stop, and rest. "It's okay," he whispered to her. "We're almost there. You'll be able to sleep soon."

* * *

Vaguely aware that she was in his arms, Hermione slipped in, and out of consciousness. The chill of the air crawled over her skin. A thin layer of sweat shined on her face. The air was thin, and she couldn't breath, but that might not have anything to do with the air as much as her lungs were weak, the compression on her chest keeping her from inhaling as much sweet air as possible. She was numb. She couldn't feel anything but that small pressure. She tried to feel for Draco only catching the materiel of his shirt, but it slipped from her clutches easily. Her senses were too dull.

Suddenly she felt a gust of warmth. Somewhere in her mind she acknowledged that they were at their intended destination, but that too like Draco's shirt slipped from her. Her mind couldn't hold anything for too long.

Hermione was being put down somewhere hard, and cold. It felt like the stone floors in Hogwarts. That couldn't be it. They left Hogwarts. Didn't they? She groaned in complaint.

"Hermione? Can you hear me?" Draco's anxious voice tried to reach her, but it sounded so far away like she was underwater trying to listen to sounds that were in another world entirely. "Hermione, I'm going to leave this note here with you. It explains everything."

Something heavier laid on top of her, something wet touched her cheek, footsteps echoed until they disappeared. She gasped, sucking in as much air as she could, but it hurt, it sent knives into her ribs, her heart. She was alone, but she wouldn't remember why when she woke.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Romeo's Choice

Hermione sneezed. It wracked her brain. She sneezed once more. She opened her eyes. There was a dirty floor, and specks of glowing dust floating in front of her lit by streams of light.

Cautiously she sat up holding her spinning head waiting for it to stop. There were piles of boxes closing her into a corner. Something black fell around her waist. She held it out in front of her, and saw that it was a school robe with a Slytherin crest, a green snake curled into the shape of an 's'.

The events of yesterday gradually came to her, the fog clearing to show hazy pictures. She received an owl from Draco. She snuck out of Gryffindor tower to meet him at the One Eyed Witch statue. The statue... They went down it. Somewhere along the way her memories ceased. She must've fainted it was the only logical explanation. But that didn't explain why she was there. Alone. Where was Draco?

She went to stand, but her hand brushed something stiff beside her. A folded piece of parchment. Her name written in elegant script, but with enough scrawl to suggest it was from a boy.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry that I had to leave you here. It was for your own safety. Do not leave that spot. Someone will come for you._

_Things are changing. I don't know what will happen today, or in the future. All I know is that you will be safe, I promise. Whatever will happen know that I love you. Carry this piece of my heart, and I'll carry a piece of yours. That way, we'll always be together._

_I love you._

_Draco_

Hermione folded the letter along its creases. She put it in the pocket of the inside of her robe. She didn't feel the tears streaking her cheeks, or her heart breaking. She was too busy plotting her escape.

There was no way that she was Draco was going into war without her. Draco knew better than to mention the war, but she knew better than to think it was anything else. She knew, he knew that, and he knew that she knew. He knew that she would try to escape, and it was the only reason he wouldn't tell her why they went into Honeydukes cellar last night. She growled, a low rumble in her chest a warning that her fury was going to surface. He'd be the death of her yet.

* * *

Sitting on his bed alone in his dormitory Draco waited for his cue. Very soon the war would begin. No one knew. Only the dark lord. Many were going to die. Maybe a few of their own. But who was "their own?" Would he be speaking of his fellow classmates, or the death eaters he was planning on joining one day, most likely next year?

He rubbed his tired eyes. He hardly got any sleep last night, he tossed tangling the blankets around his legs like thick coils of a snake. He worried about Hermione in that cellar. He dreamed that instead of the death eaters raiding Hogwarts they went to Honeydukes, and found her, and... He shuddered at the memory.

He didn't want to leave her last night. He would have stayed if he could, but he couldn't leave his comrades. Whoever his comrades were. He was glad he locked the door. Anyone but her could open it. This would make him feel better if he was locking anyone else _but_ Hermione in there. Hermione would be able to find her way out, but that didn't matter - what mattered was how long it took her to do so. All he needed was time. Time enough for the war to be over.

His bed shook, dust, and bits of rock fell loose from the ceiling splattering the floor, and crumbling into smaller bits. That was the signal. The war had begun.

He didn't walk - he marched out of the dungeons. He was walking to his death. He was sure of that.

At the top of the steps in the Entrance Hall was his father. Draco shared his blond hair, his eyes, his chin, and cheekbones. He was a smaller copy of him. His father grinned joyfully. It made him sick inside.

"Come son, we can't let the others have all the fun now, shall we?"

"No, father." He was monotone. Dead. Already before the war even started.

Death Eaters in their bone masks rushed past them. Sparks, spells, hexes, screaming, running, and rumbling was everywhere. Draco took out his wand, locked his feelings away, and began dueling. One person down. A second. He sneered. He chuckled. He laughed. He cackled. In his moment he forgot about the girl in the cellar. He was back where he felt he belonged, next to his father hurting those that annoyed him for all of his school days.

* * *

"Stupid..." She kicked the door. "Arrogant..." She hit it. "Ferret..." She sent another blast its way. Red light like flames shot up the door, but it didn't blow up, or even unlock it.

Hermione went over every book she read in her head. It was a lot, but soon enough it came to her. She knew what spell he used, and she knew the counter-curse. She snickered. Draco knew she would figure this out. He only wanted time. That was something he _wasn't_ going to get.

The spell blasted the lock to bits, and she chortled louder. That stupid, arrogant, loveable ferret. She grabbed Draco's cloak wrapping it around herself, and descended down the hidden passageway. A chill swept her face, and she shivered. She didn't have Draco's warmth this time, so she rubbed her hands together, rubbed her cheeks, and went on her way.

Not a mile later her heart sped. Her hands lost all feeling. Her feet dragged, and she fell on all floors gasping. She was only walking. Not even running. She was worse. She was getting worse, and she cursed the passageway for it. She crawled, until she dropped to her side. She clutched the stitch in her chest.

Once she could stand she would leave. She had to. In Hogwarts she might see Draco. She might die. Either way. She didn't care. She had to do it. No matter how long it took her to lie there, and regain normalcy she would get out of there.

Fifteen minutes later she picked herself up, and continued. She repeated this process twice becoming increasingly haggard before she made it to the exit of the One Eyed Witch. She heard what sounded like the castle falling apart. The war was on. She walked into it.

* * *

Five... Six... Seven... These people were too easy. Draco knocked them down easily. He kept pushing forward. One after another. Nameless, faceless people. They all blurred together. Except... No!

Draco went off his course shoving people to the side, he ran straight towards a pale, bushy-haired girl. He tackled her around the waist throwing them to the ground hiding them behind the One Eyed Witch statue emitting a light squeal from her.

"Hermione! What do you think you're doing!"

She groaned, and he propped himself up on his elbows to lighten his weight. She gasped, "you _honestly_ thought I'd stay there?"

"I thought you'd be there longer!"

"Then you underestimate me, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco suddenly became very conscious of their position. Him on top of her, his face dangerously close to hers, a few tendrils of her hair across her nose. With his fingertips he moved them away counting the light freckles on the bridge.

He leaned closer, the ringing of the war fading. Everyone else didn't exist. He wished they didn't. He kissed her lips applying steady pressure until he was grasping at her hair pulling her closer, harder. Her nails dug into his sides tugging at him.

With every bit of self control he had he jerked back, and smirked when she whimpered. "You have to stay out of this, Hermione."

"I won't."

"Don't make me hurt you."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

"If it'll save your life I will."

"I can do this."

"Not like this you can't. Not while -"

"I'm sick," she finished.

It wasn't the time to worry about hurting her feelings. "Yes! Exactly, you're sick, too sick to fight here - you'll die. I can't be watching out for you every second -"

"Then don't -"

"I can't _not_ worry about you! _Please,_ Hermione, promise me you'll stay right here!"

"No..."

"Of course not," he snarled. "Die for your precious Potter, and Weasley."

"Draco -"

He gripped her face challenging her chocolate eyes with his silver. "I love you. I'll always love you."

"I'll always love you too..."

He frowned. "I think Weasley loves you..."

"What? Where is this coming from? That's crazy."

He shook his head. To her it sounded out of the blue, but it very much wasn't. He noticed the looks Weasley gave her, how he acted when she was in the Infirmary. He would be the last person to want to admit to how the Weasel felt about her, but it was true, and perhaps it was the wrong time to bring it up, to be having a discussion at all, but what if he died out there… He wanted her aware, to make her know that he was okay with it, or as okay as he ever would be. Weasley wouldn't be a danger to her, not like he would be. "No, it's not. Hermione, you'd be so much better with him."

"What if I don't want him?"

"What if you don't have a choice?"

"There's always a choice."

He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. He kissed her. "I'll be back," he lied.

She nodded. She knew he was lying.

He got to his feet as she scooted herself in the corner. He tore his gaze from her, and out to the war. "Stay," he ordered harshly, and he jumped into the combat starting where he left off. This time he looked for one person in particular that would make sure that Hermione stayed.

When he spotted him, he truly smiled for the first time at the Weasel. He dodged the flying curses until he was there behind him. He snatched his elbow pulling him into an empty classroom. He yelled, and fought to point his wand, but Draco had much better reflexes than him. It was a wonder the Weasel survived that long at all.

"Malfoy," he croaked his wand held still at his face.

"Cool it, Weasley. Hermione is behind the One Eyed Witch. You need to make sure she stays out of the way." He said it all in a rush hoping that the red-head caught it.

"_That's _where's she's at? What'd you do to her?" He stepped forward dangerously. Draco stepped back.

"Nothing! She's fine. For now. She can't fight in this war."

"I agree, ferret," he mumbled as if it caused him physical pain to admit it.

"Good, Weasel. Go to her - keep her safe."

"Right," he started to run out of the room.

"Weasel?"

He stopped with his hand on the knob. "What?"

"You love her, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Really love her?"

He narrowed his eyes. "If you didn't get to her first..."

"Like I told you, I'm not in the picture anymore. Just... Make her happy. We never did belong..."

"I know... I will..."

"I have your word?"

"Yes." He left slamming the door behind him wand raised.

* * *

"Hermione!"

She looked up from her corner to see Ron sprinting towards her, kneeling at her feet in the corner she kept herself in. She smiled softly at him as he gripped her shoulder inspecting her face. "I'm okay," she assured.

He sighed in relief. "Right... Right... Lets get you out of here."

She held his upper arm constricting him from standing. "Ron..."

"What?"

She thought about what Draco said. About Ron loving her. She never saw Ron in that light before. She squinted her eyes at his features, the light of the spells shining the sweat on his brow. Ginger hair, smelled like sweet shampoo. Cobalt eyes. Large protecting hands. He was handsome, how she never saw it before... She didn't know.

"Do you love me?"

His forehead crinkled in confusion, but soon smoothed out. He nodded. "Yes."

"Really love me?"

He barked out a laugh that made her jump. He became serious again. "Yes." Taking her shoulders he closed his eyes. "I've really loved you for a long time. You were always... Too good for me. I wanted you, badly. I want you. In more ways than one I need you. You hurt me, you know... Dating Malfoy."

"I didn't mean to."

His emotion melted her. "I know you didn't. You had no idea."

She leaned up, her lips lingering over his, her brain in overdrive. She loved Draco. But he wasn't coming back. Even if he lived, they couldn't be together. They had it right from the beginning. He was fighting for the other side. No matter what happened that day they weren't ever going to be.

Ron's nose touched hers, and she broke the distance. It was sweet... Comfortable... Real. She loved it. She cried in guilt, and happiness.

* * *

Draco took a deep breath. He watched their transaction from the other side of the statue. Hermione kissed the Weasel. It was only a matter of time until that happened. He could've denied it forever, but that wasn't going to stop them. If he never left it wouldn't stop it. Some things were meant to be. Like his future. It was chosen for him without his consent.

Juliet was safe. She'd be happy. She'd get married, and have children. She would forget about ever dating a Death Eater. More than anyone she was worthy of better.

Earlier that day he thought he was already dead. Hermione had that way about her, making him feel alive at his darkest moments. He was in his moment, and then out of nowhere he was brought of it. His heart started again with her. Without her he was... Dead. Well... He'd save the other's energy. Maybe Romeo didn't have it all wrong.

A/N: There is an epilogue left.


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

A scream pierced Hermione's ears in the small kitchen. She glared from her husband by the back door to the raven-haired boy across the table.

"James Potter," she fussed. "What is that?"

"Uncle George gave it to me."

Hermione leaned over snatching the fake crawling spider from her daughter Rose's plate. "Oh, Ron, sit back down, it's not _real_."

"Sure looked real," Ron's ears turned beat red. He sat next to their son Hugo who didn't seem upset at all by the disturbance in his highchair, and began feeding him again. He grinned a toothless grin.

Hermione patted her daughter's head. "Rose, sweetie, the spider is a mean joke of Uncle George's. Something of which I'll be checking for in the pockets of every cousin that walks through these doors." She gave a meaningful glance to James.

"HEY! That's not fair," James protested.

"It's perfectly fair, and you can be sure that I'll be telling your mother about this. They should be here in a few minutes."

James gasped, and Ron interrupted. "Hermione, love, maybe you don't have to tell Ginny about this -"

Hermione glowered at him, and threw him the spider. Ron jumped clear out of his seat back to the door again.

"Jeeze! Hermione, that's _not_ funny!"

"Then talk to your brother about it!" Hermione sighed, and went back to her paper, one of which she hadn't been able to read for a week since they took in James, Albus, and Lily from Harry, and Ginny for their second honeymoon. After dealing with another set of children Hermione could very well see why they took off to Ireland. She couldn't find a reason to blame them if they stayed there.

The war had been over for many years. They won. Every death eater that was alive was sent off to Azkaban. That included Draco Malfoy, and his parents. She stood up for his defense, but lost by a landslide. They hadn't talked since he left her behind the statue to fight, a place in which she stayed to pacify Ron. She never went to visit Draco. It was easier to cut off ties, a clean break.

Though he had a place in her heart, she fell in love with Ron easily. When he adorably got down on one knee, and asked her to marry him two years after the war when he secured his position as an Auror, she said yes.

Hermione wished for a career, she longed for it like a constant ach. She was barely able to keep up with her studies in Hogwarts though she remained top notch grades. A career however... It wasn't an option, her health wasn't reliable, she would be useless a feeling she had much to Ron's annoyance. Harry, and Ron took amazing care of her afterwards, and despite that they had practically an unlimited amount of money was a moot point. The desire of a job was never going to fade.

They had two lovely children. Bearing them was hard on her body, she couldn't walk for months, but in her opinion it was worth it. As Ron wished they had her brains, and his love of sweets. Rose with her wild brown hair, and Ron's smile, and loud mouth. Hugo, ginger, quiet, and sweet.

Hermione's health needless to say was just as bad as it was in her school days. Her symptoms were different. She rarely fainted, but she did collapse. Her heart still raced, she was tired so often, and she went numb. Ron helped her out more than she could ask for.

The door opened, and Hermione sighed, and set down the Daily Prophet once more.

James, Albus, and Lily leapt up, and ran to hug their parents. After hugging, and kissing each of the little ones, Harry hugged Ron, and kissed Hermione's cheek.

"Didn't think you were coming back, mate," Ron said sitting down to feed his son for the third time.

"We missed them so much," Ginny gushed.

"Yeah, it was way too quiet."

Hermione laughed, "I would think so."

"Thanks for watching them. We owe you."

Ron agreed quickly, "yes you do!"

"I don't have anything for you yet, Ron, but Hermione, there's something waiting for you outside." Harry winked at her. "Have you read the paper?"

"Not yet."

"Good," he replied snatching the paper from the table and throwing it in the rubbish bin.

"Hey," she exclaimed sounding like James. "I hadn't finished with that!"

Their expressions didn't change while Hermione furrowed her brows, and Harry, and Ginny smiled encouragingly. She gave up with her guesses of why they were acting that way, and went outside. Behind her she heard Harry say to Ron, "no, this is just for her."

She shut the door, and looked around the grassy backyard, the vegetable garden she planted with Ron two fortnights ago still a pile of dirt. The air lacked a breeze, the sky cloudless, but just beginning to lighten to a bright blue. There was a thin fog with light morning dew.

From the back gate approached a thin figure. An older man with long white-blond hair to his chin, deep set silver eyes, and sallow skin came towards her. She took a step back, but the man chuckled. "Hermione," called Draco's voice.

She laughed too, her heart soaring in a very different way. She ran to the man, and he picked her up in mid-jump swinging her around. "Draco!"

Spinning her three times he set her clumsily to her feet. They held on to each other in a fit of hysterics. He held the back of her neck resting his forehead on hers their breath erratic. "Hermione... You're more beautiful than I remember."

"You're..."

"I know... I look like hell, but I spent a long time there... Now I have Heaven right here."

"Oh Draco," she said sadly.

"I know," he breathed. "Potter's been giving me news. You married Weasley. You have two children, Rose, and Hugo. I'm happy for you. I am."

She tilted back examining him better. He was staring right into her eyes, not a lie glinted in his. He was telling the truth. She grazed his hair over. "Then we're okay?"

"We're fine. You were always for him. We were living in a dream."

She nodded. "I should've visited you..."

"No, you shouldn't," he snapped. "That place... The Dementors have been sent away, but... It's horrible, it really is. You don't need to see anything like that."

"I'm an adult."

"So am I, and I wish I've never seen it."

She shook her head. "Do you want to meet my children?"

"I'd love to. Just give me a minute out here. I haven't had fresh air in ages."

* * *

Draco watched her disappear into the house. He did love the fresh air, the taste of ions on a new morning. When he left Hermione behind the witch's statue he was certain that he'd die. He _wanted_ to die. It didn't happen that way though. When he stepped out into the bustling crowd he thought of the chance to see her face. If he survived what made him so sure she would? He had to see it through to the end, and when he was arrested he chose to survive in Azkaban to see her, to make certain she was happy, and safe. Now he's seen her, and he had subconsciously made the same choice to continue living. To see her happy. He loved that smile more than air.

He stared at the closed door hearing children's voices, and giggles, adults talking, and laughing filtering through. A happy home. His Juliet was finally, truly happy.

It opened, Weasley's head peeping through. "Hey, you, Malfoy!" He audibly groaned, "_Uncle_ Draco. Come on in."

He smirked at his obvious discomfort. "I think I will."

His Juliet. Her past Romeo. Somehow Draco managed to hold much more of her than he thought possible, and he would never regret a moment with her, not then, and not ever. She would always be his Juliet.

A/N: I knew from the beginning of writing this story that Hermione would end up with Ron. My point being that sometimes there isn't one hero. Where Draco had to end, Ron began. I'm sorry for all those who were rooting for Draco.

Thank you for reading, and reviewing (if you took time to do so). I very much appreciate it.


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